


I've Been Waiting For Some Peace

by RisingShadows



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: M/M, Tom Blake Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingShadows/pseuds/RisingShadows
Summary: They have a mission. They can not fail this mission. They can not fail his brother.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	I've Been Waiting For Some Peace

**Author's Note:**

> (Title is a line from The Dark Before The Dawn)

He can’t stop. Not when he’s pushing through the trenches, when there’s a hand closed around the collar of his shirt and Scho is pulling him free. Pulling him away as he shakes through his own fear and Scho is a steady presence at his side. 

Even when Scho argues against their orders, tells him to wait and think it through, he doesn’t stop following him. Even when they’re standing there, about to enter No-Man’s land and Scho looks at him. It’s the first time he really sees the fear the other is holding in. 

“You sure?”

No. He isn’t sure, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter when his brother will die if he fails, it doesn’t matter when 1600 men’s lives could be lost if they fail. He can’t fail, can’t be the reason his brother doesn’t come home. 

“Yes.”

It’s a lie. A blatant one that he has no doubts Scho sees right through. He doesn’t call him on it. For a moment he watches him, eyes dark with a hidden sorrow and a fear Tom knows he doesn’t quite understand no matter how much he claims he does. 

He turns, begins to climb and freezes, a hand on his shoulder as Scho drags in a sharp breath and looks him in the eyes. Holds him there as steel settles across his face, eyes still dark but there is something about him. Something strong and steady that Tom isn’t sure had been there before. 

“Age before beauty.”

Scho goes first. Rifle in hand, steady at Tom’s side. There are no shots, he doesn’t fall with a bullet wound instead he turns. Meets Tom's eyes for half a second and nods once, a sharp movement as he slowly moves forward. 

They push on and the thrum of fear that claws its way through Tom never leaves. He cannot fail. If he fails he will never be able to look him mother in the eyes again. If he fails his brother dies and that is not something he can allow. Not something that should ever happen. If anyone makes it out of this war it should be Joe. 

They stumble through the mud, the barbed wire, the craters. They stumble until they’ve made it. The German front line directly in front of him and Tom forces himself to breath. To lift his rifle and prepare, if they haven’t gone there’s barely any chance the two will survive this. 

They simply have to hope they’ve gone. And if they haven’t they have to take at least a few with them. 

The trench is empty. Tom can breath for just a moment before the fear is swallowing the relief once more and Scho looks at him. At embers still lit in a bucket. 

“They’re not long gone.”

He hates the dugout. Even as he puts on brave face, the two of them slowly moving onward. 

And then it explodes, Scho is buried beneath the rubble and the steady strength he’d drawn from the other is gone. He isn’t breathing, he pulls him free and for a moment the other is still, still and dead in his hands. 

Then he isn’t hands grasping at Toms shoulders as he drags him to his feet. Choking on dust and shaking as stumbles, blind, behind him. He can’t leave him behind. Can’t even consider it as they stumble through the dugout. 

“You keep hold of me!”

It is an order. Desperate and loud and still barely heard over the sound of the stone crashing down around them. Scho doesn’t let go, not until they’re stumbling down the only path left. Not until they have to jump. 

“You need to trust me. Jump!”

The other hesitates, just long enough for Tom to think he won’t. Just long enough for Tom to consider that maybe he doesn’t trust him quite as much as Tom thinks. As much as Tom trusts him. 

And then he jumps, Tom catches him when he slips. Drags him forward, towards the light he can see now. They stumble free, Scho releasing him as he pants. Stumble up until Scho drops heavily to the ground. 

The steel he had seen earlier is still there. Even hidden somewhat behind the tremors. The fear as he washes dust from his eyes. As he shakes and Tom knows that all of this is his fault. 

If he didn’t have a brother in the 2nd Devon's would they still have been chosen? 

“And I wish you’d picked some other bloody idiot.” 

It hurts more than it probably should when he thinks Will might turn back. Might desert him with 1600 men’s lives at risk. 

“Just fire the fucking flare.”

Scho follows. 

A year and a half later, when they’re home from the war they’ll remember it all like it happened yesterday no matter how much they wish they could forget. 

Tom’s blood on Will’s hands. The fear and pain and the sudden realization that he might not make it. That he might not save his brother. That 1600 lives relied on him and he failed, he failed and now he’s pushed it all on Will. 

Will makes it. Goes on without him, without even knowing if he’ll survive and Tom understands that sacrifice now. Understands the steel he sees in Wills eyes when he looks at him then. 

“That won’t bother me.”

A year and half later they’ll stand together beneath the branches of one of his mother's cherry trees and Tom will smile. Watching as Will looks, past him up and at the cherry blossoms that fall around them. 

He’ll watch as all of the others’ barriers and walls fall slowly. He’ll take the others' hands in his as Will offers him one of those soft smiles he used to try so hard to pull from him. 

They’ll survive, and they’ll stand together beneath the cherry trees and everything will be maybe not perfect but close enough. 

He’ll have Will. And really, Tom’s fairly certain that’s all that matters in the end. 

All he needs in the wake of the loss and the death and the pain. 

Tom has never sought redemption, or salvation of anything of the sort but Will is the closest thing he thinks he’ll ever get. 

And some nights, when the war follows him home, when sleep is hard to come by; he’ll lay in his arms with his head on the others chest and breath. He’ll close his eyes as one hands ruffles slowly through his hair, as the other murmurs poetry in his ear. It will feel like freedom, like redemption. 

As if he’s been pulled from the trenches solely so the other can hold him in his arms. 

As if he is finally, truly home. 

And he is.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I'm writing too much?  
> Some more of Tom being in love once again. I like writing Tom, its fun especially since he gets stabbed.


End file.
